I’ve seen her die, seen her die countless times. Whenever I close my eyes, my mind goes back to that day, that moment when that Red Prius ran her over. My baby girl.
“Apache 5 confirm, Apache 5. This is overlord, confirm?”
The restless voice in my earpiece keeps talking like a robot.
“Roger overlord. ETA 3 minutes”
And even now, when I’m in a situation like this, it still comes back vividly.
My team and I are flying like a phoenix on our black hawk. I am Price. Leader of this squad. We are flying over the tall pine trees covered with snow over the redwood prairie. The pilot is Floyd. My buddy. We have been friends since kindergartens and together we’ve survived two tours in Iraq.
Admiral Kevin McMillan was against me when I chose Floyd for my team. He was in MP duty then. A veteran with more than 15 sniper kills as an MP. It felt like he was being disrespected. Hence I used all the favors owed to me to bring him here. My lucky charm, my buddy.
Now we’re flying to Widow’s Cove at 4 a.m. in the night. All the white snow is glowing under moonlight. Like a white blanket of shavings of the moon. We have Intel that the most notorious arms smuggler of our time was hiding in a cabin in the Widow’s Cove.
Richard Bellum. He was in my regiment in my Iraq tours. We trained together. But after he came back, he had some falling out with his wife and his family. And within three years somehow he became the most notorious American smuggler homeboy.
Initially, he used to do military arms contract as a freelance contractor. He had his contacts and he used them to their last. But two years ago a reporter from Washington heralds exposed an illegal international arms smuggling ring based in here in the US. His name was in there too, in the list they published. For weeks, the military police had made 153 arrests. Almost everyone was arrested and the 132 marines among them were court-martialed. But Richard was never arrested. The only guy left. Nobody knew where he was. In-country or if he had fled. Without leaving any trace, he vanished.
In last year’s March 6th, 6 gunmen open fired in three schools, one church and one hospital in Virginia. Leaving 389 dead and more than 500 wounded. All 6 committed suicide when the JSOC caught up to them. They had cyanide in their mouth when the law enforcement found them. Each of them had a burner and a single number saved in the contact list. The country code was of Oman.
The shooters were all South American. So the Joint task forces initially thought that they belonged to some South American drug cartel. But they had no marker or symbol that indicated that. Nobody came forward to take credit, as the cartels or terrorist groups do. Further investigation led to that all of them were ex-soldiers from different South American nation. A larger conspiracy was coming out in the light.
The law enforcement was asking, why shoot civilians and why in places with no landmark value? Why?
After almost a year, a new lead came in their hand. The shooters forgot to destroy a pager they used. A little girl had found it behind the flash tank in girls’ washroom. The principal brought it in and notified the task force.
It was registered under the name of a shell company. And it was owned by another shell company registered in Switzerland. And the oversees account that was used was of a Swiss bank. After many debates, threats and discussion, the Swiss bank authority agreed to release its information on the account. It was registered under the name of Richard Price.
The authority immediately declared him the public enemy number one.
A day later, a withdrawal from the account was initiated. The internet ping bounced from three locations and the triangulation stopped on Widow’s Cove, Redwood, Alaska.
Within twenty minutes we were briefed and ready to be deployed. An army plane brought us here to Alaska. And now we are on a black hawk to capture or kill him.
“Apache 5, this is overlord, come in.”
“Roger. This is delta 1, Apache 5.”
“We’re detecting three sheep in the loo pot” “You are authorized to use the hammer.”
“Roger overlord. Send the falcon back in rendezvous in 15. over”
“Good luck delta 1. Godspeed. Over and out”
We have to maintain radio silence for 15 minutes.
The cabin has a dimming light in front of it. From the sky, it seemed smaller. But It’s bigger.
In a very familiar formation. My team of six, we move forward. In the pitch-black night, in our gray camo suit. It was feeling like Afghanistan all over again.
We reached in front of the house. I signaled to stop. Roach and Anthony, call sign Delta 3 and 6, after my signal hooked up a forward breaching charge on the door.
I signaled the breach. The door burst open like a matchstick. In a split second, we entered into the cabin ready to shoot the enemy. But there was no one.
Suddenly, I hear thump thump and the thud, the silenced MAC-9’s burst and bodies falling. I look back and there’s a guy in a completely black suit holding that MAC-9. All of the 5 other members of my team lying in the ground. All shot in the head.
I was thunderstruck for a moment. Then the rage came flowing in. I tried to pull the rifle up and shoot, but the black suit shoots me first in my face. I fall down. Such a dull pain! Like a thousand-degree red-hot rod has been pushed in just under my right eye.
I can hear the footsteps closing. The guy is looking down on me. My vision is fading slowly.
The shooter pulled his mask off. And in a fading vision I saw what I would never expect in my life. It was Floyd.
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